I had twenty minutes and a plastic chair.

The dryer had twenty minutes left, which was enough time to attempt an errand and probably not enough time to finish one. I stood in the laundry room negotiating with the clock.

I could run upstairs, answer two emails, find the parcel label and come back. I could also stay near the machine and avoid being the neighbour whose clothes occupied it long after the cycle ended.

There were two plastic chairs. I chose the one that did not wobble.

Nothing needed adding.

The room smelled of warm cotton. My basket had a crack in one handle, and the striped towel on top belonged to a set that no longer existed.

I took out my phone, checked that there was no message I needed to answer, and put it away again. The lack of an urgent message did not need to be followed by a search for a less urgent one.

For a while I watched a small red sock travel around the dryer window. It kept appearing in a different part of the load, apparently having a more eventful morning than I was.

I was already doing the errand.

An upstairs neighbour came in with a basket. We talked about the machine that took coins reluctantly. It was a short conversation about a subject on which we both had useful experience.

When the dryer finished, I folded the warm clothes and found the red sock's partner inside a sleeve. I had completed exactly the task I had come down to do.

Upstairs, the emails and parcel label were still available. I dealt with them later, without the extra trip down the stairs I would have made if I had forgotten the laundry.

I have had nicer places to sit. That morning, the chair was available, the machine was occupied with my clothes, and I did not need to improve the arrangement.